mechanic.
“Did I understand you to say there was a possibility that my car might be finished tonight?”
The man eyed her sharply.
“Yes, ma’am, I said that. I think if we can get this generator in before dark, we might have her ready to travel by seven o’clock. Mind you, I ain’t promising, not till I see what shape she’s in when I get the generator in, but I think it might happen, if you don’t mind paying my helper for overtime.”
“Of course not,” said Laurel. “It’s important for me to get the car as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” said the mechanic, returning to his work. “Stick around, lady, I’ll do my best. Angels can’t do no more.”
She turned a quick glance toward Pilgrim but saw he had just vanished inside the room where the telephone was. She wondered whether he had heard what Mark had said. But when he was through with the telephone, she would try a couple of old friends and see if either of them would take her in, provided her car was not done in time to use that night.
Phil Pilgrim came out of the office smiling.
“Say,” he said with a happy grin, “want to do a little more scouting around for a stopping place? I had a hunch that I’d better find out for sure whether my man is coming on the midnight or later, and I find he came in on the five ten. Started from Chicago sooner than he expected, and he’s home now. I can see him if I drive to his house at once. I thought perhaps you’d like to go alone and stop off somewhere on the way back to find a place for overnight.
And anyway, it would pass the time till you know for sure what to expect about your car.”
“Why, that will be fine,” she said, smiling. “But you didn’t hear what the mechanic said, did you? He told me if everything went all right, he might get the car ready to move by seven—in which case I’m going back to the city tonight. I simply
must
if I can, for I have so much to do before I get back here for Monday. But of course I ought to find a place before dark where I can stay if the car isn’t ready tonight.”
The young man looked at her, startled for a minute.
“Well, yes, I suppose he could get it done if he is willing to work overtime,” he said. “Well, come on. I’m sure we can find you a place anyway, and it may help you out when you get back.”
So they got into his old car again and went speeding down the road, through Carrollton, and out to a country place on the highway.
“Why, this is where Mr. Banfield used to live,” said Laurel, as they turned into the driveway and drove up before the steps of a big old-fashioned brick house.
“Yes, that’s the name, Banfield. Do you know him?”
“No,” said Laurel, “but I remember he had something to do with a foundry down the road. I remember hearing his name. He was a manufacturer of some kind of machines, wasn’t he?”
“That’s right,” said Pilgrim. “Now, do you want to go in, or would you rather sit here and wait? I won’t be long.”
“Oh, I’d much rather sit here. Don’t hurry. I’m very comfortable.”
She smiled at him, and he got out and went up the steps with a spring and pulled the old-fashioned doorbell.
The door was presently opened by a girl who nodded as if Pilgrim was expected, and he went in.
Laurel sat there thinking the afternoon over with its strange happenings, amused at the situation, and still more amused at her own contentment with things. Why was it that she felt so much as if she had fallen in with one who seemed a part of her old life when Father and Mother were at hand and home was a beloved and beautiful place where there was protection and comfort and plenty of luxury? And why was it that she felt so much more at home in this man’s company than she did when she was with any of the young men in the city who had paid her attention?
Ah, well did she know that if her cousins with whom she was staying temporarily should find out what she had been doing today, and how she had sent
“Did I understand you to say there was a possibility that my car might be finished tonight?”
The man eyed her sharply.
“Yes, ma’am, I said that. I think if we can get this generator in before dark, we might have her ready to travel by seven o’clock. Mind you, I ain’t promising, not till I see what shape she’s in when I get the generator in, but I think it might happen, if you don’t mind paying my helper for overtime.”
“Of course not,” said Laurel. “It’s important for me to get the car as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” said the mechanic, returning to his work. “Stick around, lady, I’ll do my best. Angels can’t do no more.”
She turned a quick glance toward Pilgrim but saw he had just vanished inside the room where the telephone was. She wondered whether he had heard what Mark had said. But when he was through with the telephone, she would try a couple of old friends and see if either of them would take her in, provided her car was not done in time to use that night.
Phil Pilgrim came out of the office smiling.
“Say,” he said with a happy grin, “want to do a little more scouting around for a stopping place? I had a hunch that I’d better find out for sure whether my man is coming on the midnight or later, and I find he came in on the five ten. Started from Chicago sooner than he expected, and he’s home now. I can see him if I drive to his house at once. I thought perhaps you’d like to go alone and stop off somewhere on the way back to find a place for overnight.
And anyway, it would pass the time till you know for sure what to expect about your car.”
“Why, that will be fine,” she said, smiling. “But you didn’t hear what the mechanic said, did you? He told me if everything went all right, he might get the car ready to move by seven—in which case I’m going back to the city tonight. I simply
must
if I can, for I have so much to do before I get back here for Monday. But of course I ought to find a place before dark where I can stay if the car isn’t ready tonight.”
The young man looked at her, startled for a minute.
“Well, yes, I suppose he could get it done if he is willing to work overtime,” he said. “Well, come on. I’m sure we can find you a place anyway, and it may help you out when you get back.”
So they got into his old car again and went speeding down the road, through Carrollton, and out to a country place on the highway.
“Why, this is where Mr. Banfield used to live,” said Laurel, as they turned into the driveway and drove up before the steps of a big old-fashioned brick house.
“Yes, that’s the name, Banfield. Do you know him?”
“No,” said Laurel, “but I remember he had something to do with a foundry down the road. I remember hearing his name. He was a manufacturer of some kind of machines, wasn’t he?”
“That’s right,” said Pilgrim. “Now, do you want to go in, or would you rather sit here and wait? I won’t be long.”
“Oh, I’d much rather sit here. Don’t hurry. I’m very comfortable.”
She smiled at him, and he got out and went up the steps with a spring and pulled the old-fashioned doorbell.
The door was presently opened by a girl who nodded as if Pilgrim was expected, and he went in.
Laurel sat there thinking the afternoon over with its strange happenings, amused at the situation, and still more amused at her own contentment with things. Why was it that she felt so much as if she had fallen in with one who seemed a part of her old life when Father and Mother were at hand and home was a beloved and beautiful place where there was protection and comfort and plenty of luxury? And why was it that she felt so much more at home in this man’s company than she did when she was with any of the young men in the city who had paid her attention?
Ah, well did she know that if her cousins with whom she was staying temporarily should find out what she had been doing today, and how she had sent
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